


Losing Control

by tennou



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Sam Wilson, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pining Steve Rogers, Politics, Post-HYDRA Reveal, Slow Burn, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 12:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4221687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennou/pseuds/tennou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fury sends his best duo undercover to investigate Hydra involvement in a small city government in California. Steve is less than enthused with the idea of spending the next few weeks being fake-married to the man he's been suppressing feelings for for months.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Control

**Author's Note:**

> love me some pining steve. love me some fake married aus. (reposted fic bc the formatting was wigging out on me last time? sorry if you read it before!)

“It’s not as easy as it used to be to catch undercover Hydra agents,” Nick Fury’s voice resonated loud and clear in the tiny enclosed space that was meant to serve as their temporary meeting room. After SHIELD had been (violently) dismantled once the heavy extent of Hydra’s infiltration had been made known, the small group of agents that had been left standing once the dust had settled convened wherever they could.

Steve considered Fury’s words.

Though it had never really been “easy” to track and take down Hydra agents, he understood what Fury was trying to say.

Back in his day they wore bright red swastikas on their arms and loudly proclaimed their allegiance to Hitler or Hydra or whatever nonsense they believed in.

But Hydra could’ve been anybody now. Quietly biding their time and furthering their own toxic agendas without anyone being the wiser. As easily as they had infiltrated SHIELD—an agency built with the express purpose of security and protection of the nation—Hydra agents could just as well weave themselves into any corporation without detection.

The stakes had definitely been raised.

“One area in particular that we’ve been watching is a small city in Northern California. Spring Valley.” Fury gestured to the projection on the wall of a sparsely-populated city with time-worn buildings and an abundance of trees. It had a kind of charm to it, Steve thought. Different from the bustling and rushing streets of the larger cities but still urban enough to be called a city rather than a sleepy town.

“Their government activity is raising some red flags; some officials with questionable political alignments and shaky pasts, some funds seemingly disappearing within the government’s accounts.”

Steve leaned forward. “You think this whole government is a front?” he asked. Fury shook his head.

“The city itself appears to have a legitimate foundation. It’s just a few of the members of the higher up that we suspect of Hydra affiliation.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. So far they weren’t off to a promising start. “So what’s the plan here if we don’t have concrete knowledge of who the enemy is?”

“An undercover operation appears to be the best option in this case,” Fury said, turning the projector off. “Interaction with government officials is vital. We don’t want to risk getting the wrong guy and tipping off the Hydra agents hiding there.”

“Alright,” Steve nodded slowly. It was a little unorthodox, sure. But he was sure he could handle it if given the proper background information. “I guess that’s me.”

“Not alone,” Maria Hill cut in. “It’s too much of a risk to send you in with no backup.”

Steve had to restrain from protesting.

Two people investigating the same situation just seemed to be asking for trouble. It was too conspicuous. How could they possibly get two agents, undercover, into the field without drawing attention to their inspection of the company?

“As such, you will have a partner for the duration of the operation,” Maria Hill continued. “And they will be acting as your spouse for the duration of the investigation.”

At that, Steve stood up from his seat so fast that the back of his knees hit his chair and sent it flying back into the wall behind him. A nearby agent flinched and scooted her chair a little further away.

“Sir,” Steve said with a deep frown etched into his forehead. “With all due respect, I’m not sure that that’s the best course of action here.”

“Oh?” Nick Fury raised an eyebrow. “And what, pray tell, do  _you_  believe the best course of action would be?”

Steve swallowed, his resolve a little dulled by Fury’s intimidating stare. “It’s just seems to be unnecessarily complicating things by bringing in another agent like this. I’m no actor—”

“Which is precisely why you need a partner to back you up, in case of any unfortunate slip ups,” Fury said in a tone that strongly discouraged further disagreement. Steve lowered his head. Maybe he’d be able to convince him otherwise later, but as of now this was a done deal.

“Understood.” He cleared his throat. “Who will my partner be, then?”

Fury didn’t bother looking up at him, engrossed in some paperwork on a clipboard that agent Hill was holding.

“Romanoff was a possibility, but she is otherwise disposed at the moment,” he said. “And there isn’t a very large pool of agents available for the job.”

“We considered Stark, but he’s too recognizable,” Maria continued.

“Am I not recognizable?” Steve asked. He wasn’t a billionaire playboy, but he was 1/6 of the Avengers and Captain America. His face was everywhere.

Only then did Fury raise his gaze from the paperwork his gaze dubious. “You’re not as hot as you think, Captain.”

Maria coughed in a lame attempt to cover her laugh and Steve felt his skin warming. “What director Fury means is that while you’re in uniform, yes, you draw attention, but in plainclothes it’s easy to dismiss the similarities you share with Captain America.”

“You’ve got that average American white boy face,” Fury said decisively. “Be thankful for it and accept the assignment.”

Steve brought a hand to his face, subconsciously stroking his jawline as he asked, “So who is my partner, then?”

“We settled on Sam Wilson, I believe. He’s dependable and experienced, and you two work well together.” Fury cocked his head. “Is that alright with you?”

“Sam?” he repeated, his insides churning. “He’s not an official SHIELD agent.”

“Look around you Rogers,” Fury said. “There is no SHIELD anymore. None of us are official SHIELD agents.”

But Steve couldn’t let this go. “What about Agent Hill? She could stand in as my spouse.”

“Agent Hill will be working with me for the time being.” Fury lowered the clipboard. “What is it about your assignment that’s bothering you so much, Rogers? Is it the fact that he’s a man? Because I hadn’t pegged you for a homophobe.”

“No, no that’s not—” he sighed. It was the opposite, actually.

Steve’s situation with Sam was…complicated.

Sam had been his friend and partner for the better part of a year, and he appreciated having him around immensely. He wouldn’t have hesitated to say that without Sam, he might not have even made it this far without doing something rash or getting himself killed. They had a close bond that Steve didn’t feel with a lot of people, and he treasured that.

But another aspect of that was the fact that Steve was starting to…feel something for Sam. He’d been fighting it off for months but being thrust into a fake marriage with him was sure to bring all those repressed feelings rushing to the surface, bursting at the seams.

Steve had no intention of pursuing Sam romantically. He knew better than to involve one of his best friends in a relationship that had no chance of ending well, given both their lines of work. He didn’t want to risk hurting Sam (physically or emotionally) by selfishly acting on his own feelings.

He couldn’t let Sam know how he felt about him.

“No?” Fury’s voice grounded Steve to the present situation. “Then what seems to be the problem?”

Steve lowered his head, resigned. There didn’t seem to be any way out of it. “There’s no problem. I’ll do it.”

“Good. We’ll debrief you later this week.”

Steve turned to leave but didn’t miss Fury calling, “Don’t pack too heavy! It’s gonna be hot out there.”

Steve felt like he was going to be sick.

● ● ●

Sam’s wry expression the next time Steve saw him told him he’d already heard the news. Which was one less thing that Steve had to awkwardly address, so that was good, at least.

“Not that I’m opposed to marrying Captain America,” Sam had said, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows (which Steve had responded to with a roll of his eyes) “But won’t an interracial gay couple attract more attention than is necessary for this undercover job?”

Steve grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. “Sam, my friend,” he said as he carefully twisted off the stem. “I’d like to formally welcome you to the 21st century.”

“Haha,” Sam had responded drily, slugging him in the shoulder and taking the apple out of his hands. “I’m serious. There’re some crazies out there, Steve. How ‘undercover’ can a gay couple be?” He sounded almost legitimately concerned, which was understandable.

Although people on the queer spectrum had made considerable progress since the time Steve had been a kid, it was still nowhere near enough.

Steve had shaken his head, nonetheless. “Don’t worry about it. Apparently there’s a pretty heavy LGBT advocate presence in the city. And it is California.”

“If you say so.” He’d cocked his head as he continued to mull it over. “But don’t be surprised when some white girl asks you to be her gay best friend,” he said, before taking a bite out of Steve’s apple.

Although Steve had easily allayed Sam’s worries earlier, Steve couldn’t help but wonder himself now how much attention they’d be drawing as a couple.

But he had to trust Fury’s judgement. This was the best course of action.

Supposedly.

He still felt like slamming his head against the steering wheel at this entire ridiculous situation (and he might’ve) but Sam was asleep in the passenger seat and he didn’t want to risk waking him. He absentmindedly scratched at the beard he’d grown out for the mission—because despite what Fury had said, he was sure  _somebody_  would have recognized him, or at least drawn attention to his similarities to Captain America. He figured the beard couldn’t hurt, at least.

He sighed and placed his hand back on the wheel, staring out at the road stretching out in front of the car. They were now in the process of driving into Spring Valley to a home that had been rented out for them ahead of time in a minivan that Fury had given them as “wedding present”. Steve had half-expected a cheesy “Just Married” to be scrawled across the back windshield in pink paint, with those old style tin cans dangling off by threads.

Driving their own car into town with all of their luggage stuffed into the trunk strengthened the illusion of ordinary suburban couple, which was why Steve was stuck driving the thing around for the 10 hours from the airport.

His shoulders were aching and his legs sore from being cramped up so long, and he checked the GPS to assure they were almost there.

He glanced over at Sam who was still dozing off peacefully. They’d taken shifts to get here but Sam had cleverly nabbed the first five hours.

Steve sighed.

This situation wasn’t ideal. It was already hard enough trying to keep a lid on his feelings regularly. Steve had never been the best at being subtle in the past either, he remembered, as memories of his lovesick bumbling around Peggy and his blushing encounters with Bucky began dredging up. He quickly pushed them down before the stinging feeling in his chest that usually accompanied the memories could follow.

He’d simply have to keep himself in check, in control. As it was, it didn’t seem as though Sam was particularly sharp at picking up on matters of the heart. Steve had been near pining for him for close to a year now and nothing had come of it.

Steve sank lower into his seat.

Maybe he’d have nothing to worry about and this whole mission would slip by without incident.

● ● ●

He woke Sam up when they were about half an hour away, just to review the nuances of their “relationship” one last time.

They’d decided to keep their couple story of how they’d met simple and drew from the story of how they had actually met, changing a few details to make it seem more romantic. Less chance of a slip up that way.

They also knew that they were masquerading as visiting politicians from Southern California, come to mingle with other like-minded politicians. In other words, figure out which members of the Spring Valley governing elite were associated with Hydra. The whole operation wasn’t expected to last longer than a month. 

“What are our new names again?” Steve asked. He hadn’t bothered checking before now, and he offhandedly hoped they wouldn’t be too hard to remember now that they only had about 20 minutes to take them to heart. 

“One second,” Sam said, and pulled open one of the duffel bags’ side pockets and rifled around until he found their fake driver’s licenses. He took one look and proceeded to laugh so hard he couldn’t get even a single word out. He tried a few times, but only ended up spluttering around the words.

Steve grabbed the cards from his limp hand and looked down at them.

Underneath his picture was “Wilson Stevens”. Sam’s was “Roger Stevens”. He resisted the urge to toss the cards out the window.

“They’re going to ruin our covers,” Steve said with a deep frown. Sam took in a deep breath as he got the laughter under control, wiping a tear from his eye.

“We’ll be fine. Nobody else will notice the similarities. Nobody else will know to look for them.”

“Really?” Steve said, the frown still etched into his brow. “Because ‘Roger Stevens’ is almost exactly my name. If it was backwards.”

“And nobody’s going to expect a black man to be Captain America, so chill out about it.”

Steve took in a deep breath, willing his nerves to calm themselves.

They were going to be fine.

Maybe if he kept repeating it to himself he’d start to believe it.

“What was the house number again?” Steve asked, squinting at the numbers on the sides of the near-identical houses.

“1738. There it is,” he said, pointing to a single story beige-colored house with a dying lawn and empty flower beds.

“Just lovely,” Steve intoned as he pulled up on the driveway.

“Isn’t it?” Sam grinned and placed a hand over Steve’s where it lay on the steering wheel. “This is our home now, Honey.”

Steve ignored the urge to flip his hand over and take Sam’s hand in his own—until he remembered he was  _supposed_  to do things like that. They were married, after all.

Sam’s surprise when Steve threaded their fingers together was visible for only an instant, quickly replaced with a doting smile.    Steve saw a woman walking up on the sidewalk with her dog from the corner of his eye and grasped the significance.

Their charade had officially begun.

Steve offered the passing woman a smile as he climbed out of the minivan and stretched out his limbs. She smiled back but didn’t pause in her walk, much to the dismay of the tiny dog she was walking, and it began to yip in distress. It looked positively demonic to Steve.        

Sam offered her his 1000 watt grin as she passed by and Steve (stupidly) felt his heart skip a beat. He felt like a hormonal teenager again. 

“She seemed nice,” Sam observed as they carried their bags into their new home. “Could’ve stopped for a chat, though.”

“She didn’t even know us. We could be an axe-murdering couple in the middle of a rampage.”

“Yeah,” Sam murmured. “Because everything about you just  _screams_  axe-murderer.”

A smile was tugging at Steve’s lips. It was juvenile to indulge this disagreement but he found himself engaging anyway. “I could be an axe-murderer. You don’t know.”

“Yeah I do, Steve.”

“Okay,” Steve said, exasperated. “ _You_  know, but she didn’t.”

Sam took a step back, scrutinizing Steve from head to toe. Steve shifted a bit, uncomfortable at the close inspection.

“Nah,” Sam concluded. “Too cute.

Steve felt his cheeks warm. “Th-that’s…a ridiculous way of gauging—”

“And too tender-hearted,” Sam said, placing a hand over his heart, a teasing look in his eyes. “Look at you, a blushing mess from just one compliment.”

“Stop teasing your husband,” he said with a huff. “Which reminds me.” He reached into his front pocket and pulled out two wedding bands. “Gotta make it official.”

Sam began to reach for his, before changing his mind and holding out his hand with a teasing grin.

“Yes. A thousand times yes, Captain.”

Steve shook his head but couldn’t help the jittery feelings stirring in his chest as he slipped the ring onto Sam’s finger.

● ● ●

They read over the files that Fury sent over with them and read up on the people that they were meant to be investigating: a few politicians in the upper ring of the Spring Valley government.

The upper ring was strongly suspected of having ties to Hydra, but it was unsure as to which members it was. It could’ve been the mayor himself for all they knew. Steve and Sam had to figure out a way to gain access to the politicians (which they hoped their undercover identities would provide) as well as to their cache of government information and files to catch any underhand activities that had transpired as a result of Hydra’s involvement with the local government.

“Hold on,” Sam held up a hand as he pored over his documents. “You’re a city legislator and I’m just a  _journalist_?”

Steve pushed his reading glasses further up his nose and leaned in to peer over Sam’s shoulder, ignoring the way their close proximity allowed him to feel Sam’s body heat. “Well it also says you’ve got a focus on law and politics,” he said, pointing to the lines that designated Sam’s areas of interest. He wiped off some of the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. A side effect of being a super soldier meant being slightly hotter than normal all of the time. “And can you turn up the AC? It’s scorching,” he said, tugging at the collar of his shirt.

“Global warming. What’re you gonna do?” Sam said with a shrug. “And the AC is broken.” His eyes fell back down to the character files, his mind already returning to his less-than-ideal position and he lifted a dubious eyebrow. “You know I only have a ‘focus on law and politics’ so that I have an excuse to have been around you, Mr. Legislator, long enough to make you fall for me, right?”

Steve tried to remain stoic and returned his gaze to his own documents. “I don’t see what the issue is. You have a very important role, Sam.”

“You’re only saying that because  _you’re_  the big powerful politician,” Sam huffed as thumbed through the pages.

Steve fought down laughter as he said, “The pen is mightier than the sword.”

Sam threw his folder at Steve’s head.

"There’s no need for violence when you have the power of the press,” Steve continued, laughter finally sneaking its way into his tone as he picked up the folder and flipped through it some more.

“You’ve also got a knack for cooking as well, it seems. Your pies are to die for.”

Sam groaned before snatching Steve’s file from his hands.

“Of  _course_  you’re a fitness buff,” he scoffed as he read through Steve’s documents. His eyes lit up as he read a little further down the page. “A fitness buff with a green thumb.” He laughed triumphantly as he shoved the paper in Steve’s face. “Your dahlias are beautiful.”

Steve turned the idea over in his head. He didn’t mind gardening. He liked tending to plants and the peace of mind it afforded him, and he was a little glad he’d have an excuse to do so now. He simply shrugged at Sam.

“I can live with that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow but let the issue go, his gaze dropping back down to the documents spread out in front of them. “We should go over your information a few more times, just to review. It would  _not_  be pretty if people thought there was something fishy about you—or us—before we’ve even gotten a solid chance.” Sam glanced up at him. “Do you want me to go over it with you?”

Steve nodded gratefully, before marveling at how easy it was to fall into this routine of work and play when he was with Sam. He didn’t take himself too seriously, and didn’t let Steve get caught up in himself and his duties too much either. But he didn’t shirk his responsibilities either.

Steve knew Fury had said that the two of them worked well together, but if he was being truly honest with himself, it was all Sam. Steve had always considered himself an open book, someone capable of seeing the good in the bad; but somewhere along the way he’d hardened up and closed himself off to others. He’d gotten lost in the wide disconnect from the world he used to know to the one he now knew, his slew of old memories mixing inharmoniously with his new experiences and feelings. But Sam had made it better, because Sam understood that disconnect to an extent, and Sam knew what he needed.

Steve said none of this out loud of course. All he said was, “Oh Darling, where would I be without you?” his voice dripping with the saccharine sweetness of a housewife from a 1950s sitcom.

Sam smacked his arm, but shot him that 1000-watt grin. “Dead in a ditch somewhere, probably.”

Steve couldn’t even dispute it.

● ● ●

Steve had schooled his expression to one of careful indifference despite Sam parading around the room with nothing but a thin white towel hung around his hips.

“I know I packed my spare pairs of boxers in here somewhere,” he muttered as he unzipped another suitcase. “I just can’t remember  _where_.”

“You can just borrow one of mine,” Steve said, trying and failing to keep his gaze focused on the book he had in front of him. It was some spy thriller he’d found packed in one of the bags but the story was the last thing on his mind. He peered at Sam kneeling beside the bed as he rifled around one of the suitcases, his eyes involuntarily dipping to where the towel now hung dangerously low around Sam’s hips. Steve swallowed. “Really. It’s no problem.”

“Thanks, but I  _know_  they’re in this suitcase, I swear—Aha!” Sam pulled out a fist full of boxers and held them up in the air, a victorious gleam in his eyes. “I knew they were in there.”

Steve sighed and buried his nose further into his book as Sam slipped into a pair of boxers.

There was only one room with a bed in it, and before Steve had even suggested the idea of simply sleeping on the floor and letting Sam have the bed, Sam had announced, “The bed looks big enough for the two of us, right? I don’t mind sharing if you don’t. Unless,” Sam had said, raising a teasing eyebrow. “You think you might not be able to control yourself with me?”

Steve had laughed it off, but was inwardly grimacing at the accuracy of Sam’s teasing.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt the bed dip beside him as Sam got comfortable, and he heard him let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s been a long day.”

It was still too hot to use a blanket for either of them, meaning Steve would be sleeping next to a shirtless, sweaty Sam in nothing but his boxers.

It seemed it would be a long night, too.

● ● ●

Falling in love with Sam was one of those things that kind of just happened to Steve. It wasn’t like it had been with Peggy, when he’d started out with a hopeless crush and it had developed into something deeper. Or even how it had been with Bucky, where they had simply grown together like two trees with intertwining roots.

With Sam, it was just unexpected. He hadn’t been looking for love. He didn’t notice the signs, didn’t pick up on anything out of the ordinary until one day Sam sat down at the dining table, looking bleary-eyed and all but dead to the world.

“Morning,” Sam had said, barely holding back a yawn. Despite his fatigue he’d taken the time to pour out two cups of coffee; one for himself and one for Steve. He’d slowly pushed it toward him.

And the realization had just struck him; that he was in love with his best friend.

Funny how insignificant little things like that could affect you so powerfully.

He was confronted with a similar situation the next morning, when he made his way toward the kitchen to find Sam already sitting there with two plates of eggs and toast and two cups of steaming hot coffee.

"When did you get up?” Steve had to ask. Sam had already been gone when he’d woken up an hour earlier to shower and get ready for the day. Of course, unlike Steve, Sam had probably had the benefit of a full night’s sleep.

“Just a little earlier than you, I think,” Sam said with a yawn. He pushed the plate, piled high with eggs and 6 pieces of toast, toward Steve. “Eat up. We’re going to taking a tour of city hall today.”

Steve loosened his tie and undid a few of his buttons as he sat down. “Have we still not gotten the AC fixed? I don’t want to show up to work sweating through my clothes every day.”

“There’s a guy coming in next week,” Sam said. “Until then we can just tell people it’s our hot and steamy relationship that’s got you all hot and bothered,” Sam said with wink. Steve just grunted in response. It was too early in the morning to deal with his burgeoning inappropriate feelings toward his partner.

“We can go to the department store and get a fan or something until then,” Sam said, shoving half a piece of toast into his mouth. “It’ll strengthen the whole couple illusion too. Want to go later in the week?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Steve agreed, using that morning’s newspaper to fan himself. “Should we be introducing ourselves to the neighbors?”

Sam frowned. “I don’t know. It seems like a safe move, but then again I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.” He took a long swig of his coffee, shaking off some of the wariness of sleep before continuing. “I’ll handle any neighborly stuff,” Sam stated decisively.

Steve nodded slowly. “And I’ll focus on our friends at city hall.”

Sam nodded once more before returning his attention to his breakfast, a quarter of the size that Steve’s was. He felt a pang of guilt, as he always did, at how large his appetite was. But he also felt something akin to gratitude, pleased that Sam took his superhuman metabolism into account when making their breakfasts.

Things like that made it hard for Steve not to love him.

They sat in a pleasant, amicable silence after that, although Steve did steal a few stealthy glances at the wedding band on Sam’s left hand. It was strange to see, but Steve, horrifyingly, didn’t think it looked out of place at all.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” Steve offered, stacking Sam’s plate atop his and walking them over to the sink. “Since you made breakfast.”

“Thanks man,” Sam said, before deciding that was too normal a response for their unique situation. “Remind me to tell my mama what a keeper you are,” he added, batting his eyelashes. Steve couldn’t quite suppress the snort that followed.

“You want me to drive?” Steve asked, holding up the keys to the minivan.

“Sure,” Sam said as he slipped on his suit jacket. He groaned. “It’s too hot to be wearing this shit.”

Steve had to agree, but he felt like the heat was worth it to see Sam getting all sweaty and fidgety. “City hall will probably have air conditioning.”

“It better,” Sam grumbled as they walked out to their car.

City hall, as it turned out, was located relatively close to their own house—only a 15 minute drive if they took the freeway—which Steve wanted to chalk up to Fury’s resourcefulness, but in actuality was probably due to dumb luck.

Steve pulled into a ‘visitor’ parking space and looked over at Sam. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he responded. Then he took out a pair of glasses and carefully placed them on his face.

Steve stared. “What are you wearing?”

“Non-prescription glasses. What?” Sam asked with an indignant air. “They’re not just for hipsters anymore. And I feel like it really solidifies my whole ‘Journalist’ vibe.”

"Right.”

They climbed out of the car quickly made their way into the building to avoid any more direct contact with the sunlight.

Sam let out a relieved sigh once they made it inside and they were hit with a blast of cool air. “Air conditioning. Most underrated invention of man.”

“Let’s hurry it up,  _Roger_ ,” Steve said wryly, walking ahead to the front desk to introduce themselves.

The receptionist made a quick call and within minutes they were greeted by an only kind of sleazy looking bureaucrat, the head of the Personnel department.

Daniel Mathers. He talked fast and though his grey suit was slightly rumpled now, it was evident he had taken care assuring it was pressed to crisp perfection. His hair was gelled and fashionably combed away from his face. He greeted them with too-wide grins and too-quick handshakes. Steve tried to feign interest and ooh’d and aah’d at the right moments, but he found his mind straying from the desolate halls of the Spring Valley city hall. 

Things like was Daniel Mathers a Hydra agent? Connected to Hydra in any way? Were any of the politicians of whom they’d gotten fleeting glances and clipped introductions secretly Hydra? How would they possibly be able to narrow it down this way?

He was shaken from his thought by a sharp elbow to his side. He glanced over to see Sam staring at him with raised eyebrows and a look that told him he knew Steve wasn't paying attention to the tour at all. Steve shot him a guilty smile.

“Oh no, don’t think you’re getting out of this with that puppy dog stare of yours,” Sam whispered, but Steve could see the beginnings of a grin at the corners of his lips.

“What was that?”

They jumped apart at the sound of Mathers’ voice. He was looking between them with an implacable look in his eyes before he gave them a well-oiled smile. “I think somebody mentioned that you two were together. Is that right? I’d hate to assume…” he trailed off, his fingers playing with his own wedding ring as his eyes zeroed in on their matching wedding bands.

“Yes,” Sam spoke up as Steve was momentarily rendered useless by surprise (he’d  _told_  Fury he was bad at acting).

He refrained from jumping out of his skin when Sam took his hand and threaded their fingers together. “We try not to be too public about it, but we’re definitely together.” At that last word Sam looked into Steve’s eyes and Steve hoped he wasn’t turning bright red because the way Sam was looking at him was making him feel a certain way.

“That’s wonderful! This is a very pro-gay administration, so no need to worry about anybody harassing the two of you. In fact,” he said, a gleam in his eye as he processed the potential PR blessing this could be, “if anybody  _does_  harass you, don’t hesitate to call up the head of our Employee Relations department. Technically you’re not  _employees_ , but it’s the same general idea.” He lost the smile and hardened his face as he looked at the two of them. “Mayor Jimenez does not tolerate bigotry of any kind.”

 _I wonder how many times he’s said that out loud_ , Steve wondered, for the sentence appeared to slip out almost automatically.

The smile squicked back into place. “Let’s continue with the tour, shall we?”

The rest of the tour was a blur of empty conference rooms and libraries, and a brief look at the mayor as he made his way to some kind of meeting surrounded by a gaggle of government officials and guards.

“He’s a busy man,” Mathers had told them.

The tour had ended with an extension of an invitation to attend one of the Mayor’s conferences coming up in a few days.

“You’ll be able to get a closer look at how Spring Valley politics are conducted,” he told Steve. “And you’ll get some good reporting done, I’m sure,” he said almost dismissively to Sam.

Steve pretended he was smoothing out his beard to hide his choked laugh behind his hand. He didn’t dare look to see what Sam’s expression was at that moment for fear of breaking down in laughter right then and there.

Sam, for his part, waited until they were safely seat inside the car before tearing off his fake glasses with a look that could’ve singed the top off of the lush green grass outside city hall.

“I  _told_  you nobody would take me seriously,” he grumbled. Steve laughed and reached across to pat Sam’s hand on his knee (that was a normal thing to do, right? As a fake husband?).

“It’s okay sweetie,” he said, mimicking the tone Sam used when he was teasing him. “ _I_  take you seriously, and that’s all that matters, right?”

Sam shook his head. “Let’s just go back to that stupid hot house.”

● ● ●

It was another night of fitful sleep.

Sam wore a shirt over his boxers this time, but his presence was still just as distracting.

He must’ve drifted off into sleep at one point because he reawakened abruptly at 2 am, his head hazy with the remnants of a dream he’d been having before he woke up. He closed his eyes, trying to clear his thoughts.

Memories slipped around his mind, edges faded like old polaroids; not to be completely focused on, but to taunt him.

A dream-like state but he wasn’t sleeping anymore.

Wide awake now, Steve reached up into the darkness as though one of the fading images would manifest to take his hand. His fingers closed around empty air, and he let it fall back onto the bed.

This feeling would wash over him sometimes. The feeling of being utterly alone. Sometimes he was comforted by the disembodied colors and faces of his past (sometimes haunted by the very same) but when they receded back into the darker corners of his mind, he was left with this.

Himself.

 _Alone_.

Steve blinked, only then struck by the realization that Sam wasn’t in the bed next to him.

The old springs in the mattress creaked in protest as he moved to sit up straight. He let his head fall back against the headboard as he struggled to push back the feelings of isolation swimming up around him like a thick sludge.

Light from the hallway outside was bleeding into his room from the cracks around the door. Steve hesitated only a moment before climbing out of bed and pulling it open.

He followed the light source to the kitchen, and then stood silently in the doorway.

Sam glanced up at him, a slice of bread in one hand and a butter knife loaded with strawberry jam in the other.

“Steve,” he said, moving to face him and splattering the precariously balanced jelly onto the counter in the process. “Shit,” he muttered, frowning at the pile of sticky red chunks sitting on the counter. He quickly returned his attention to Steve, who now found himself smiling despite the throng of dark feelings that had been stewing in his chest just moments earlier.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Sam asked, though there was less concern in his tone now that Steve was basically laughing at him.

Steve watched Sam bring the dirtied knife to his lips and lick off the remaining jelly as he awaited a response. Steve knew that Sam hadn’t meant anything crude by the gesture, but he still felt a slight tightening in the crotch of his sweats. He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and tactfully crossed one foot over the other.

“Nah. Couldn’t sleep.”

Sam nodded, understanding, of course, and turned back to his midnight snack.

Sam stuck the licked knife back into the jar for another slathering of jam, which didn’t particularly bother Steve but did make his mind wander toward other ways they could potentially swap spit.

“You hungry?” Sam asked.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You should know by now that the answer to that question—”

“—is always gonna be yes,” Sam finished with an exaggerated roll of his eyes and a smile tugging at his lips. “Got it. Is the Super Soldier alright with toast?”

Steve stuck his hands into the pockets of his sweats and strolled over to where Sam stood at the counter, a sly smile plastered on his face. “I think my refined palette will be alright this one time.”

“America would be crushed if they knew the truth about the sassy and snarky man they call their sweetheart,” Sam stated as he turned to slide two more pieces of bread into the toaster for Steve.

Steve picked at some of the spilled jam that had already begun to dry on the counter. “Would they?”

Sam nodded. “Crushed,” he repeated, before grabbing a paper towel and wiping the sticky red mess off the counter.

Steve wondered at the validity of the claim.

People might be “crushed”, sure, but only because he wouldn’t fit into their preconceived notions of what “America’s Golden Boy” should be. He wouldn’t ever be able to measure up to the idea the media had planted of him; that perfect poster boy of freedom.

He shook his head at the direction his thoughts had taken and instead looked back up to Sam, who he found watching him thoughtfully. Steve swallowed.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice coming out a little strained.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” was Sam’s reply. Steve gave him a smile that felt plasticky and forced. By the looks of it, Sam seemed to notice as well, but didn’t push it.

“I’m fine,” Steve said. “It’s just…sleep doesn’t come as easily some nights.”

Sam nodded. “Here ya go, Cap,” was all he said in response, pushing a plate of slightly-burnt toast toward Steve and not prying any further.     

Steve appreciated that about Sam. He never pushed him too hard, and when he did, it was always in just the right places. It was as though Sam just instinctively knew how much a person could handle. It was one of the things that made him a great counselor.

It was one of the things Steve loved about him.

“Now make sure you rest up after this,” Sam said, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Can’t have everyone thinking I kept my important legislator husband up all night long.”

If only he knew how open Steve would be to the idea.

● ● ●

Steve, amazingly, fell right asleep when he climbed back into bed. Though he didn’t sleep long, having to get up again once the sunlight began to peek through their twisted old blinds, it was nice to have that little window of reprieve.

He woke up at roughly the same time Sam did this morning and though Steve didn’t mind sharing the bathroom space with him as they got ready, it was more than a little distracting to see Sam sleepily going about his daily routine.

“You wanna go for a quick run?” Sam asked after he spit a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. “We’ve got time. You don’t have to be at city hall until 9:00.”

It was tempting. Maybe a run was just the thing Steve needed to cut through his frustrations, both work-related and…others.

He was wrong, on both accounts.

He wasn’t able to run as fast as he normally would have or risk revealing their identities (or at least make people suspicious about the physique of a supposedly very busy city legislator). Which meant running alongside Sam for the whole hour, something that he wouldn’t have normally minded, but entailed its own problems.

Seeing Sam all flushed and hot and sweating was doing nothing to help him contain any of his prior frustrations. He ended his run decidedly more frustrated than before he’d begun it.

Steve gratefully accepted Sam’s offer to use the shower first. He quickly shed his sweaty clothes and jumped into the shower before proceeding to quickly and efficiently jerk himself off.

Thoughts of pressing Sam against the cold tile of the shower wall and gently easing himself into him filled his head; thoughts of ramming into him with all his strength ; thoughts of Sam gasping and writhing for him, letting out little moans of pleasure and urging him to keep going in between breaths. Calling out his name when he came, shivering, clenching around him…

Steve bit his lip hard enough to break skin as he came, not daring to moan out loud for fear of the house’s thin walls betraying his true activities to Sam’s ears.

Steve took a few breaths and just stood underneath the onslaught of cold water for a few minutes, guilt quickly replacing the feelings of pleasure that had flooded through him moments earlier. He’d just jacked off to the thought of fucking his best friend, his friend who was absolutely clueless about how he felt about him.

Steve pushed his wet hair back from his face and turned the water off with a sigh.

He needed to get himself under control.

● ● ●

The next few days passed by with no major incident. It consisted of a lot of busy work as Steve sat in on legislative committee meetings with Sam occasionally tagging along under the guise of reporting but instead using his clearance to snoop around some of the undisclosed files around the office.

Steve did have to assert on a few occasions that yes, he was gay, and yes, he had a husband and no, this did not interfere with his line of work. But aside from a couple of uncomfortable encounters with a select few of the government officials, the people at Spring Valley city hall were accepting for the most part.

Steve was back at the house now, though, a myriad of government documents of all kinds spread out across the table. Financial records, business licenses, recently passed legislation; it was all there in front of him and Sam as they pored through them for any inconsistencies.

The AC still hadn’t been fixed and subsequently Steve’s tie lay draped across the back of his chair and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He undid another one of the buttons on his shirt, leaving a good amount of his chest exposed but he didn’t really care at this point.

All he really wanted to do was take a long, cold shower and change into something more comfortable, but they needed to devote as much time as possible to figuring out where the Hydra breaches were. The longer they spent in this city the bigger the risk of them being discovered was.

Steve leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through his hair.

“You got anything in those legislative documents yet?” he asked Sam, who shook his head no.

“I don’t think we’ll find much in here,” Sam said, closing up the file. “If Hydra’s infiltrated this city the way they did SHIELD, there won’t be much by way of official legislation. I think our best bet will be in the financial records.”

“Alright, let’s focus on that.”

Sam let out a slow breath. “You wanna take a break first? We’ve been at it for a while.”

Steve slumped onto the table with a sigh of relief. “Please.”

They pushed the documents aside and Sam got up to pour them both glasses of lemonade. Steve felt his fingers brush against Sam’s as he took the glass from him, and in the next instant Sam had jerked his hand back and sent the glass and all its contents tumbling down Steve’s shirt.

Sam swore. "I'm so sorry man, I don’t know what came over me,” Sam said, apologizing as he grabbed some paper towels to wipe Steve down with.

Steve just laughed it off. “It’s fine, mistakes happen.” His shirt  _was_  beginning to stick to him very uncomfortably now however. He began unbuttoning it.

“Oh, I didn’t ruin your shirt, did I?” Sam’s eyes following Steve’s hands as they moved lower down his abdomen.

Steve felt his cheeks warm at the intensity of Sam’s gaze and could only hope his blush wouldn’t spread to his now naked chest. “Nah, should be fine after a wash,” he assured, draping the shirt over the back of another chair.

Sam seemed to notice he was staring and abruptly tore his gaze from Steve’s sticky, lemonade-covered abs. Steve’s head was suddenly filled with the image of Sam pushing him back into his seat, getting down on his knees, and licking his abs clean.

He cleared his throat.

“I’ll get you another shirt,” Sam said, turning to go. Steve reached out and caught his arm.

“It’s fine, I needed to go take a shower anyway.” Sam nodded but Steve still didn’t let go of his arm. Sam’s eyes met his and Steve felt his stomach do a few flips. Sam’s tongue darted out to wet his lips.

“I’ll finish reading through some of the documents here,” Sam said. Steve blinked and released his arm, coughing into his fist.

“Sounds good. I’m going to…” he pointed vaguely toward the hallway before walking off.

He shamefully jerked himself off in the shower for the second time that week.

 _What was that back there?_  Steve wondered as he toweled himself off.

It had felt dangerously close to them crossing the line between friends and colleagues to…something more. He closed his eyes, willing himself to forget whatever he thought he’d felt.

He couldn’t deal with this right now. He needed his head clear and focused on the task at hand, and he couldn’t do that if he was pining over his best friend and partner. This was how mistakes got made, how lives were lost. Steve needed to get a handle on himself.

Half an hour later, he made his way back to the kitchen where Sam was perched on the edge of his seat with a deep furrow between his brows. It was almost endearing.

“You have any luck?” Steve asked as he pulled up a chair next to him. Sam looked up in surprise, as though he hadn’t even noticing him coming in.

“I think so, actually,” Sam said, excitement tinging his tone. Steve sat up a little straighter.

“Really?” He pulled his chair closer to the table and reached over to grab the file Sam was handing him.

“Yeah. See the transaction listed here? The deposit was made in an account entitled ‘Typhon’. But there’s no mention of Typhon or what its funds are used for in any other financial documents or the legislative records. But the deposits are still there, sometimes from anonymous donors and sometimes the funds are just pulled in small amounts from other allotted accounts.”

“Well,” Steve said, looking over the discrepancies with raised eyebrows. “Looks like we’ll have some questions for the head of the finance office tomorrow.”

Sam looked at the calendar on his phone. “Well  _I_  will,” Sam said, flipping his phone around to show Steve the event scheduled for the next day. “You’re going to be busy with the mayor on the day of his big legislative conference.”

Steve blinked as he processed the information and held back a groan.

He hated government work.

● ● ●

Steve woke up the following morning feeling invigorated. He still hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before but the knowledge that they would be making significant headway in their mission had lightened his mood considerably.

He slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake Sam as he did so.

He’d been getting up earlier than Sam each morning and running alone to avoid being in that particularly frustrating spot he’d been placed in just a few days ago. Sam had greeted him with nothing more than raised eyebrows whenever he’d returned, but never pressed the issue before today. 

Steve had once more gotten back from his morning run when he ran into Sam, just about to leave for his. Sam crossed his arms. 

“This is about the third time in a row you got up and left for your run before me. There something you’re not telling me, Rogers?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I’m sorry Sam, it’s about time you knew…” Steve heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. “You’re just too slow for me.”

Sam punched him in the shoulder. “Eat a dick.”

Steve just grinned and lifted his brows in a silent admonishment of Sam’s foul mouth.

The real reason he didn’t run with Sam anymore was that it was just easier. Easier on his nerves, on his affection-starved mind and body. It was a strain sometimes to act like he wasn’t at all affected when Sam looked at him all disheveled from a particularly hard run, slicked with sweat and chest heaving with heavy breaths. Steve licked across his bottom lip almost subconsciously.

He lifted the edge of his shirt and wiped the sweat from his face, before pulling his shirt off altogether.

Sam let out a low whistle, a teasing look in his eyes. “You trying to seduce me, Rogers?”

Steve was thankful his cheeks were already pink from his run, or his blush would’ve spoken volumes about his emotional state.

Instead, seized with some momentary lapse in judgment, he stepped forward, leaning in close enough that he was sure Sam could feel the heat of his body radiating against his skin. “That depends,” he said. He reached around Sam to grab his water bottle, making sure his hand brushed Sam’s hip ever-so-slightly as he pulled back and relishing in the way Sam jumped in surprise. “Is it working?”

Sam blinked at him a few times as though regaining his bearings before a smile graced his face. His voice sounded a little breathy as he replied, “Look at you, Slick. Natasha teaching you some moves in her down time?”

Steve let his face break into a practiced, easy smile as he stepped back. “I’m a lot smoother than you give me credit for, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Sam muttered. He straightened up and slung his earphones around his neck. “Save some of that smooth-talking for later today. I have a feeling they won’t exactly be forthcoming with information on Typhon.”

That was an understatement.

Steve was talking to a handful of other city representatives after the mayor had given his speech, something about plans about a statewide water reservoir introduced by the governor, and he had yet to even set eyes on the elusive department heads. He hadn’t even seen Mathers the whole time he’d been there. He glanced around for Sam but couldn’t catch any sight of him either. He felt a twinge of worry wriggle into his chest but pushed it down. Sam knew how to take care of himself.

“Stevens!” He heard a voice call from behind him, and he turned to see Mathers’ and his sleazy smile slinking over with the mayor himself in tow. “Mr. Mayor, this Wilson Stevens. Stevens, this is Mayor Cesar Jimenez.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mayor,” Steve said with a smile, though he was inwardly wondering why  _he_  specifically was meeting the mayor when there were at least a dozen other visiting politicians.

“Likewise. And please, call me Cesar.” The lines around the mayor’s eyes suggested he laughed frequently, and his smile seemed genuine. Steve sincerely hoped he wasn’t the traitor (and it was already highly unlikely, given that Hydra stemmed from Nazis and Mayor Jimenez was Latino).

“We were just hoping to get a quick picture with the two of you for the papers,” Mathers said, tapping a nearby photographer to get his attention.

Understanding dawned on Steve as he realized he (or rather, ‘Wilson Stevens’) was being used to demonstrate the mayor’s pro-gay stance that Mathers had told them about earlier. He understood the need for it, but it felt a little morally icky.

That aside, Steve wondered if he was even allowed to do this kind of thing while he was undercover. It’d be fairly easy to discredit his identity when it was printed on the front page of every newspaper in town.

“If it’s alright with Mr. Stevens,” Cesar said and Steve internally thanked him for giving the outlet.

“Perhaps later tonight, but I think I need to find my husband right now. If you’ll excuse me,” he said, pushing past Mathers and entering the crowd. He was sure there was a sour expression on Mathers’ face before it smoothed out into his plastic politician’s grin.

Steve asked a few of the other attending journalists if they’d seen his husband anywhere, the twinge of worry beginning to expand in his chest before somebody finally pointed him down a hallway.

He speed-walked through the hall, peering through the darkened windows to see if he could get eyes on his partner.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand grab onto his elbow.

“Steve,” Sam whispered, glancing around to see if there was anyone else in the hall before gesturing for him to follow him into the room.

“I was looking for some more info on that Typhon account that we found,” Sam whispered once Steve had closed the door behind him. “And I got a name,” he said, leaning his hip on the large desk pushed against the wall and nodding down at the file opened up on top of it. “Adam Kline. He works in the finance office.”

“Does he direct it?” Steve asked, leaning in and squinting at the words on the page. He needed his reading glasses.

“Nah. Just works in it.” He glanced up at Steve, and Steve only then noticed how close they’d gotten. He cleared his throat.

“Our best bet would probably be to try and wrangle some answers out of him. Who he’s working for, or with, and the extent of their interference within the city government.”

Sam opened his mouth to respond but froze when they heard voices coming down the hall, and footsteps fast approaching the very room they were in. Their cover would probably be blown, and worse, if whoever was outside came in to find the two of them standing around with the incriminating file in their hands. So when Steve heard the rattling of the doorknob beginning to turn, he acted on instinct.

He pushed Sam onto the desk and hiked his legs up around his hips, swallowing the yelp of surprise that came out of Sam’s lips with a sloppy kiss that was all teeth and tongue and nothing at all like the tender and intimate first kiss he would’ve like with Sam.

After a moment he felt Sam begin to respond, kissing him back with all the fervor of a frustrated journalist who wanted a moment alone with his husband.

“Oh, are we…interrupting something?”

Steve opened his eyes and reluctantly pulled away from Sam’s soft and inviting lips to see Daniel Mathers standing in the doorway with another, more bewildered-looking man beside him.

Steve licked his lips, tasting Sam on them. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about this, we just—”

“Got a little carried away,” Sam finished, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked and Steve knew it was just a charade because they hadn’t been going at it for more than 20 seconds but it  _did_  things to him.

The man next to Mather’s coughed and Steve could see his flustered face even in the darkness of the room.

“We should go,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the fact that Steve or Sam hadn’t made any move to extricate themselves from their compromising position.

“Yes,” Mathers said reluctantly, stepping out of the room. “We’ll give you two some privacy, then. Sorry for the interruption.” Of course he couldn’t leave without one last reminder, “And please do remember that picture with the mayor,” before finally closing the door.

They remained close until they heard the footsteps receding, and then a few more minutes after that to assure they were really alone.

Steve straightened up and let go of Sam’s legs.

“Sorry about that,” Steve said as he helped Sam to his feet. Sam shook his head.

“It’s all good. It was a smart move, actually. I’m glad you did it or we would’ve been toast for sure,” he said with a small laugh, but Steve knew he felt at least a little shaken. He’d been kind of out of it too when Natasha had kissed him so suddenly on that mission that felt like it’d taken place years ago.

He learned from the best, he supposed.

“We should wait a few minutes before we go back out there,” Sam said, straightening his jacket. He paused as he looked up at Steve with a calculating look in his eyes.

“What?”

Sam said nothing as he reached forward and stuck a hand through Steve’s hair, pulling on it and stroking through it until Steve was sure he probably looked utterly ridiculous.

“Just to make it more believable,” Sam said with a cheeky grin that shouldn’t have made Steve’s cock jump the way it did, but to be fair he had been intimately pressed up against this man’s body only minutes earlier. Steve directed his attentions toward smoothing out the rat’s nest his hair was sure to be.

They came out of the room a few minutes later, pictures of the aforementioned document safely saved on Steve’s phone.

There were a few people at the event who seemed to have a hint at what had supposedly transpired while the two of them were gone (Steve’s messy hair probably clueing them in further) but nobody commented.

Steve just kept his head down and prayed for the night to be over quickly.

They’d made it out of the event and back home in one piece with minimal hollers and harassment, and no further incident with Mathers aside from the insistence of the photo op with the mayor.

Sam let out a relieved sigh as he loosened his tie and shucked his jacket off. “I will not miss these stuffy clothes once we’re out of here.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” It was already a struggle for Steve to wear formal clothing, but in 100+ degree weather the feat was almost impossible.

From his periphery Steve saw Sam sticking his face in the freezer.

“Weren’t we going to get a fan or something?” Steve asked.

“Oh!” Sam exclaimed and Steve heard a thump as Sam hit his head on the top of the freezer in his rush to get out. “I almost forgot about that,” he said, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

Steve shook his head with an almost fond smile. “C’mon, I’m driving.”

He drove them to the nearest department store (according to the GPS) and speed-walked inside to the safely air-conditioned area.

They had both left their jackets at home but it was still murderously hot so Steve started rolling up his sleeves. “Should we ask somebody where they are or do you think we can find them ourselves?” Steve glanced back at Sam who immediately shifted his gaze up at the ceiling, his cheeks taking on a reddish hue. Steve raised his eyebrows at Sam. “What is it?”

“What’s what?” Sam coughed, clearing his throat. “I think we can find it ourselves,” he said, circumventing Steve’s question. “Let’s go.”

Steve followed after Sam, frowning at Sam’s weird behavior as they made their way around the store until they found the electronics.

“What kind should we get?” Steve asked, putting a thoughtful hand to his chin as he looked over the vast selection of fans. 

“I could suggest a good one, if you don’t mind?”

They both looked over to see a woman with a somewhat nervous smile approaching them. She looked vaguely familiar…

“You’re our neighbor, aren’t you?” Sam asked with a friendly grin. “We saw you the other day, didn’t we?”

“Yes,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Sorry I didn’t stop to welcome you to the neighborhood but my dog gets excited easily. She might’ve pooped all over your lawn.”

They all laughed good-naturedly, but Steve felt a little apprehensive. It had been one thing to fool a sleazy politician type, it was another to blatantly lie to their friendly neighbor.

She extended a hand. “I’m Maisie Holms.”

“Steve—ns.” Steve flushed at his mistake as he shook her hand. “Wilson Stevens.”

“Nice save,” Sam muttered under his breath before taking her hand in his own. “Roger Stevens. Nice to meet you.”

She looked over at the row of fans they’d been staring at for over 20 minutes.

“If you’d like, I could recommend the one I use for my office. The AC doesn’t work so well there either.”

“That would be wonderful of you,” Sam said with a smile.

Steve was again in awe at how  _good_  Sam was at this. It seemed so effortless for him, so natural, and frankly Steve wished he could’ve had the same ease with the whole situation.

Maisie helped them pick out a proper fan within minutes and walked with them to the checkout line with her own cart in tow.

“Oh, before I forget!” She pulled a notepad out of her purse and scribbled something on the top page. “My husband and I are hosting a little neighborhood dinner party on Saturday—tomorrow. We’d love it if you could stop by,” she said, tearing off the paper and handing it to Steve. “It’s semi-formal.”

“Sounds lovely,” Steve finally chimed in. He smiled. “We’ll try to be there.”

“Great! See you around, neighbors,” she said with a wave as she went up to the checkout line.

Steve stared down at the paper in his hand.

“Are we actually going to go?” Sam asked cautiously.

Steve shrugged. He wasn’t sure what the protocol was for these types of situations, because while they didn’t want to get unnecessarily entangled in anybody else’s lives, it was also important that they maintain their cover. “I’ll call Fury when we get back to house.”

Sam nodded and then moved forward to pay for their new fan. Steve watched him.

He had to admit that it was easy to forget that they were only playing at being husbands when they did simple couple-y things like this. It was easy to pretend that this was their life, and that he had a regular home life to look forward to at the end of each work day. That he had normal, day-to-day worries resting on his shoulders. That he and Sam were just another suburban couple

“Wilson,” Sam called with only a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Ready to go, sweetie?”

Steve’s answering smile was involuntary. “Coming darling.”

● ● ●

“Did that Mathers guy ever end up getting that picture of you?” Sam asked as he climbed into bed next to Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “The man is persistent.”

“Maybe he has a crush on you.”

Steve didn’t even respond, just stared at Sam with dead eyes and until Sam broke down in laughter.

“It’s possible, you know,” Sam said, wiping his eye. “That scruffy beard might do it for some people. Very lumberjack sexual. All you need is a plaid flannel shirt and an axe over your shoulder and you’re good to go.”

Steve spluttered out a surprised laugh. “Is that a thing?”

Sam nodded sagely. “And Mathers might be lumbersexual for all we know. Plus your little performance today might’ve turned him onto the idea a little more.”

Steve felt a stirring in his gut at the reminder of Sam’s body pressed up against him so close, but he ignored it as best as he could. “I’m really sorry about that, again. We never talked about that beforehand—”

“Steve, please, that’s enough. I was fine with it.” Sam settled back onto the pillows.

The AC wasn’t getting fixed for another two days and though the fan helped, the house still held a hot and stuffy air. So they hadn’t felt the need to use a blanket the past couple of nights, meaning Sam’s near-naked body was on full display for Steve to see. He averted his eyes and looked down at the book that was lying open on his lap, if only because it gave him something to do. He felt Sam shift around on the bed so that he was lying on his side facing Steve.

“You’re a pretty good kisser, you know.”

Steve’s grip on the book tightened.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he answered, before very deliberately turning the page and letting his eyes scan the words even though he knew he wasn’t going to be able to get any reading done any time soon.

“Wouldn’t have expected it from the 80 year old virgin,” Sam said, his tone full of playful teasing.

This felt like their usual back-and-forth banter, but with an undercurrent of something…more. Something Steve desperately wanted.

The words were slipping out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about them, “I can do a lot more than just kiss impressively.”

He didn’t need to look at Sam to know his eyebrows were near his hairline. He ignored the growing warmth on his cheeks.  

“How do I know you’re not all talk?” Sam countered, his words playful but his voice low and affecting Steve in ways he didn’t think were possible.

 “I can show you,” Steve said, finally looking up from his book. He watched Sam’s eyes drop to his lips and he ran his tongue over his own.

“Show me.”

Steve tossed the book aside and had his mouth on Sam’s lips in seconds, less primal than the kiss they’d shared in the dark office room but still bordering on too rough and fast. Steve couldn’t help it; he’d wanted this for too long.

Sam seemed to share his ferocity, with one hand on Steve’s bicep, pulling him closer, and the other firmly gripping his hair and pulling on it every so often. Steve ran his hand down Sam’s side, relishing the full-body shiver he induced before slipping his fingers underneath the thin cotton T-shirt he wore.

His fingers worked their way up Sam’s defined abdomen, pushing his shirt up until it was bunched up above his chest, which somehow seemed more obscene than if he was simply shirtless. He let his fingers slid over one of Sam’s dark nipples, rolling his thumb over it and let out a grunt when he felt Sam bite down hard on his lip in response.

That shouldn’t have turned him on but he could feel his cock beginning to stir where it was pressed up against Sam’s leg. Sam felt it too, evidently, because his hand left Steve’s bicep to cup him through his boxers.

“I’ve always wondered,” Sam said between breaths when he pulled away from the kiss. Steve began kissing his way down his jaw and to his neck as he waited for Sam to finish his thought.

“Did the super serum affect you here too?”

Steve could hear the teasing in his tone and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a cliché,” he muttered against his neck before sinking his teeth into the skin, causing a surprised moan to hitch in Sam’s throat.

“Fuck, Steve,” Sam groaned, and yep, Steve was definitely getting very hard, very fast. Sam rubbing him through the thin material of his boxers was definitely helping. He bucked into Sam’s grip as he fumbled to get them off, or at least push them down low enough to free his aching cock.

“Okay, yeah, the serum definitely must have helped,” Sam murmured as he wrapped a hand around Steve’s cock. Steve moaned appreciatively, but had enough presence of mind to know that he didn’t want to be the only one getting off.

He shoved Sam’s boxers down his hips and moved his hand away from his dick. Sam confusedly complied, still too distracted by Steve’s lips to protest. Steve took a second to wet his palm with his tongue before reaching down and wrapping it around both their cocks, jerking them off together.

Sam’s breaths were coming shorter and shorter bursts now and Steve knew he wasn’t far from coming either, though they hadn’t even been going at it for very long.

It was Sam, being with him. He was too much. Steve had fantasized about this for so long that now when everything was happening he couldn’t slow it down.

He paused to rub over the precum beginning to drip down the heads and used it soften his movements up the shafts of their cocks.

Sam’s fingers were digging into Steve’s shoulder almost painfully but he found he didn’t mind it at all; it was strangely only urging him closer to the edge.

“Ah, fuck, Steve,” Sam breathed. His eyes clenched shut and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to keep any more moans from escaping (something Steve found terribly unfair) and he came with a jerk all over his chest, Steve following soon after.

Steve rolled back over to his side of the bed, breathing heavy. Satisfaction rolled over him in waves but there was still a lingering sensation of want. He wondered if he’d ever get enough of Sam.

But then the post-orgasm bliss faded and Steve was struck with the realization that he’d just jacked off his best friend. Sure, Sam had been into it in the moment, but Steve knew better than to use that as an accurate gauge of his true feelings. Wanting to rub out a quick one with a guy you’d been sleeping next to for a week did not equate to any feelings of love. The stress of the job and the situation had definitely been affecting Sam, affecting them both, and Steve wasn’t going to try and force Sam to own up to a mistake.  

“That…probably shouldn’t have happened.”

Sam let out a deep breath. “Yeah. We need all of our attention on the mission.”

“So.” Sam was looking to him expectantly, as though waiting for him to initiate some dialogue about what had just happened. Steve instead turned around and reached for the box of tissues, handing it to Sam after taking a few for himself to clean up.

“We should get some sleep,” was all he said, cutting off any kind of conversation that might have resulted from what they’d just done.

Steve knew he was being juvenile but he didn’t want to have a heartfelt conversation that would just end with the obvious: that Sam didn’t want him the way Steve wanted him to.  There was no point reaffirming what he already knew with some drawn-out gut-wrenching heart-to-heart.

It seemed like an eon before he heard Sam respond with a lackluster, “Yeah.” Steve felt the bed shift as Sam turned away from him.

He closed his eyes.

● ● ●

Sam hardly spoke to him the next morning, going about his day with minimal contact with Steve, which he supposed he deserved.

He almost wished he could turn back the clock and stop himself from even doing anything with Sam. But if he was honest with himself, he knew that even if that were possible, he would never do it. As much as it ached to admit it, he treasured those moments of intimacy he’d shared with Sam.

Steve was torn from his thoughts as Sam tossed a dress shirt at him.

“Maisie’s dinner party is tonight.”

Steve blinked. He’d nearly forgotten about the invitation their neighbor had extended to them. When they’d contact Fury about it, he’d simply advised them to do what they thought best. Sam had made the decision for them, saying that Maisie was a nice person and it was the least they could do for her since she’d taken the time to help them pick out a fan.

The dinner party seemed so insignificant now.

Steve pulled off his T-shirt and began to button up the shirt Sam had given him. Sam spared him a glance before turning back to the mirror to adjust his tie.

“You missed a button.”

Steve looked down. “Oh. You’re right.”

Silence seeped back in to fill the room. Steve could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

“Hey,” Sam said, his voice shattering the quiet like glass. He around to look at him face-to-face. His face held little of his usual light-hearted air. “About what happened last night.”

Steve felt his heart rate spike but he tried to keep his expression neutral. He took in a breath. “Yeah, we should talk about that—”

“Whatever it was, I’m fine with it,” Sam said, holding up a hand. Steve paused.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Sam fiddled with his tie again as he looked for the right words to say. “I can’t say that I understand what it’s like to be you,” he said. “But I get that it comes with a lot of pressure and that it can get stressful to be under those kinds of expectations all the time. Not to mention that I feel like this particular mission has been really messing with both our heads,” he said with a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So whatever that was last night, if you needed it, then I’m okay with it. No worries.”

Steve swallowed thickly as the meaning behind Sam’s words sunk in. “You’re saying that you’ll sleep with me. For the greater good. Because you think I need it.” He laughed, but it was hollow. Was that what Sam thought of him? Somebody who would carelessly sleep with his friends because he couldn’t handle the stress of being Captain America? “I didn’t realize I was so pathetic in your eyes, Sam.”

Sam frowned. “No Steve, that’s not—”

“Forget about it,” Steve said, shaking his head. He couldn’t deal with this right then. “I’m sorry that it happened, all right? And that you felt like you  _needed_  help get me off for the sake of my mental health.” Steve was looking anywhere except Sam, hoping the hurt wasn’t showing on his face. “Let’s just focus on finding the Hydra agents.”

“Steve, we should talk about this—”

Steve couldn’t do that. Not at that moment, at least. “Maybe later,” he said noncommittally as he walked out of the room. “Maisie’s dinner party is going to start soon.”

He would have to talk about it, all of it, and work through these issues with Sam soon. But he didn’t want to think about it anymore, or dwell on the fact that he might’ve just ruined the best relationship he had in his life.

Maisie’s house wasn’t far from theirs so they didn’t bother with a car and walked over in an uncomfortable silence, broken momentarily when Sam took Steve’s hand.

“We’re married, remember,” Sam said under his breath at Steve’s jump of surprise. “Got to act like it.”

Steve nodded, offering a reassuring squeeze to Sam’s long and calloused fingers before raising a hand to ring the doorbell to Maisie’s home.

“You guys made it!” Maisie’s smile was infectious as she ushered them in.

“You have a lovely home,” Sam said with a smile, and as he made polite small talk with Maisie, Steve looked around the room.

There were a good amount of people there, and to Steve’s surprise they looked…familiar.

“Are there a few people from city hall here tonight?” Steve asked.

Maisie nodded. “My husband’s colleagues. You know him, don’t you? Daniel Mathers.”

Steve froze. For some reason, that just rubbed him the wrong way. A quick look at Sam told him he felt the same.

“You’re married to Mathers?” Sam asks. “Isn’t your last name Holms?”

She smiled as though she got the question all the time. “I kept my last name. Now come on, you can’t just stand by the door all night,” she said, nudging them lightly toward a group of people Steve had recognized from city hall. They quickly pulled him and drowned him in talk of politics and policy and unpassed legislation, barely allowing him to get a word in to excuse himself as he saw Sam being pulled into another group of people, people he didn’t recognize.

“Mr. Stevens!” Steve felt a harsh hand thump him on the back and turned to see Mathers’ grinning face present itself, Maisie smiling pleasantly beside him. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” Steve replied a little curtly. “I didn’t know we were neighbors, Mathers. You should have said something earlier.”

“I didn’t know until yesterday,” he said, his voice still oozing the sleaze of a politician but the smile in his face growing less and less genuine (if that were even possible). “Not until Maisie saw that photo we got of you and the mayor.”

“It was Daniel’s idea to invite you to the dinner party,” she said. “It was just dumb luck that I happened to see you at the department store last night.”

“Very lucky,” Steve muttered, his gaze shifting to Mathers, whose smile was still tightly set in place as he returned Steve’s stare. There was something off about all of this. Very very off.

He needed to find Sam.

Steve tried excusing himself but Mathers chose that moment to announce that dinner was ready to be served and for everybody to make their way into the dining room.

“I should really find Sam,” Steve said, trying to walk in the direction he’d last seen him, but was stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder.

“I’m sure he’s already inside,” Mathers said, already ushering Steve into the dining room.

It would’ve been easy enough to overpower Mathers, force him to get his hands off Steve and shove his slimy face into the carpet and demand to know who he was working for and how many government officials were involved.

But he didn’t know anything for sure yet, didn’t know if Mathers was the Hydra agent they’d been looking for or if he was just extremely creepy, didn’t know if Sam had been taken or if he was just going to the bathroom.

He had to maintain his cover for as long as possible. He needed to keep his cool.

“Here, sit next to me, Stevens.” Mathers pushed him into a seat and sat down next to him, keeping a hand on his shoulder as he did so.

“This is a lovely spread,” Steve said, and he felt Mather’s grip on his shoulder tighten.

His voice was just above a whisper, “Thank you, Captain.”

Steve’s jaw clenched.

Well, that answered that question.

“Don’t move," Mathers continued, under his breath, "Or I’ll have your partner killed.”

Steve peered at Mathers from the corner of his eye. He was in the process of buttering up a bread roll.

Steve aimed to look casual as well and poured himself a glass of water. “Where is he?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

Steve;s grip on his glass tightened and he paused to take a drink of water, assessing his options.

The obvious option was to take down Mathers right then and there, but that wouldn’t achieve much. He didn’t know who his partners were and didn’t know how that would affect Sam, wherever he was.

Not to mention that this was a very public venue.

He wondered if Maisie was also involved. He glanced over at her but she appeared to be blissfully unaware of her husband’s dealings. It almost made him feel bad.

“What do you want?”

Mathers took a bite out of his roll, taking his time chewing before gracing Steve with his answer.

“We’re still deciding. Though, capturing Captain America is a feat in and of itself. And it doesn’t seem as though SHIELD will be able to comply with any demands we may make of them anyway.”

Steve reached for a roll himself but didn’t eat, simply held it in his hands.

“How many of you are there?” Steve asked.

“Enough to take care of both you and your partner.”

Steve’s fingers were shredding his bread into tiny pieces.

This wasn’t his area of expertise. He wasn’t manipulative or equipped to negotiate with Hydra agents.

They hadn’t even been given any weapons, as this had been intended to solely be a tracking and reporting mission. Though Steve hadn’t been able to resist bringing his shield along with him, it was still back at the house packed underneath his gym socks. He hadn’t expected to need it here.

The only thing he had was his phone.

Under the pretense of putting a piece of bread in his mouth, Steve moved his hand away from the table, watching Mathers from the corner of his eye the whole time.

“Why did Hydra set up here, anyway?” Steve asked, trying to keep him talking and distracted so he wouldn’t notice Steve dialing Fury’s number through the pocket of his pants. “It’s a small city, almost insignificant.”

Mathers laughed and Steve used his pinkie to press the ‘talk’ button through the material of his pants.

Hopefully he’d dialed the right number.

“That’s the beauty of it. You set up in small cities where nobody notices, or cares, when the budget looks a little iffy. You’d think it would be easier in those big time cities but they’re under  _constant_  scrutiny from multiple sources.” Mathers licked the butter off his fingers. “In small cities like this, there’s only a few people that could possibly even be looking in the right direction. And once you’ve got those people under your control, you’re home free.”

So it was reasonable to say that Hydra had set up similarly in other small cities across the nation, funneling minute amounts of funds away from city governments for their own purposes.

“Is the mayor involved in this?”

Steve wondered if Mathers would simply dodge his question again, but he simply laughed at the notion.

“That soft old codger?” he scoffed. “He could never be strong enough to stand for what Hydra does.”

 Steve felt his phone vibrate against his leg and he resisted the urge to curse.

His battery was dead.

He just had to hope that Fury had heard enough to send reinforcements of some kind (though he wasn’t sure how he’d achieve that; what remained of SHIELD was stationed across the country).

Steve knew he needed to act soon. But what could he do with Sam still in captivity? A voice in the back of his mind told him that regardless of the threat to Sam’s life, he would need to act in the best interests of SHIELD, of the country. He told himself that if it came down to it, he would take down Mathers even if it meant putting Sam in harm’s way. But he wasn’t sure if he even believed himself.

“After dinner,” Mathers said, finally ready to make his demands. “You are to make your way into—”

Steve never got to hear what Mathers had to say next, however, because there was the sound of a gunshot from inside the house.

The guests were stunned, all conversation brought to an abrupt stop, but Steve didn’t stick around to see how it would play out.

He’d already leapt out of his chair and was running toward the source of the gunshot. He heard Mathers cursing as he set off behind him.

“Stop right there, Rogers! I wasn’t bluffing before!”

Before Steve had a chance to respond, a body was hurtling through the window and showering the already panicking dinner guests with shards of broken glass.

“Natasha?” Worried as Steve was for Sam’s current situation, he couldn’t contain his surprise at the Black Widow’s appearance. “I thought…?”

She shook her head, her hands already sliding two guns out of her holsters. “Go. Sam. I’m fine.”

Steve didn’t need more prompting than that.

He turned back around and ran toward the source of the gunshot from before. He burst into the first room he saw and found Sam—with few new bruises and some blood seeping from a wound on his forehead—but still alive, nonetheless. With a gun pressed to the forehead of a familiar-looking man on his knees who looked like he’d definitely had better days.

“Sam!”

“Steve,” Sam greeted, looking relieved. “Want to help me out a little here?”

The man’s frown deepened and he hopped to his feet at the sight of Steve.

“Hey! I told you to stay down!” Sam barked at the man, who in turn gave him a doubtful sneer.

“You’re not going to shoot me, or you would’ve done it already,” he said before lunging for Steve. Steve raised his arms, ready to take down the man one-on-one when he heard a gunshot sound off.

“FUCK!” The man shouted, crumpling to the ground and clutching his left leg. “What the  _fuck?_ ”

Sam lowered the gun. “Told you to stand still.”

Steve crouched to detain the man, but not before raising an eyebrow at Sam.

Sam looked indignant. “What? It’s just his leg. He’s not gonna die.”

Steve shook his head, a smile finding its way onto his face as finished tying the man’s wrists with the rope they’d used for Sam.

“Stay here with him, I’m going to go see if Natasha needs any help.”

Sam frowned. “Natasha’s here?”

“I’ll explain later,” Steve said as he pushed through the door and reentered the fray.

Natasha was more than holding her own, already having taken down three men of the men he’d recognized from city hall (most likely Hydra). The rest of the dinner party had taken to huddling against the wall of the dining room as Maisie worked on ushering them out to the living room and away from the action.

Steve honestly felt for her. She seemed like a genuinely kind and friendly person but she’d somehow gotten saddled with a monster for a husband.

Speaking of which…

Steve scanned the room, looking for Mathers who was nowhere to be seen. Where had he gone?

He didn’t have much time to ponder it, however, as one of the city hall officials he’d recognized charged him with the single-minded intensity of an enraged zealot.

Steve grabbed the man by his forearms and used his momentum to swing them around and slam the man against the floor, wincing as he audibly heard his head smack against the hardwood. Steve checked his pulse. Still alive, though he might’ve sustained a concussion from the impact. Steve couldn’t dwell on it, however, because another agent was heading towards him.

Steve and Natasha methodically and efficiently took down the remaining Hydra agents (there weren’t many left, as some had evidently fled the house as Mathers apparently had) and they were soon surrounded by the prone bodies of the Hydra agents.

“I was already in the area when you called Fury,” Natasha said, holstering her guns. Steve noted that she hadn’t fired from either one once. “So he called me.”

“How did you know where we were, though?” Steve asked, perplexed. They hadn’t told Fury Maisie’s address at any time during the mission.

Natasha’s lips quirked up. “GPS on your phone, Cap. Welcome to the 21st century.”

Steve’s cheeks burned. “I should go check on the rest of the group,” he muttered, trying to divert the conversation away from his technological ineptitude. And the group  _did_ need somebody to check on them; they’d just witnessed a reasonably shocking turn of events. They needed somebody to talk them down.

“I’ll check on them,” Natasha said. She nodded toward the hallway. “You go make sure Sam’s still okay.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked mostly to be polite, and was relieved when Natasha rolled her eyes and wordlessly pointed toward the room Sam was in.

Steve half-walked half-jogged back to the room, anxious to make sure Sam was alright.

Sam was slumped tiredly on a chair near the wall. He raised his head when Steve came in.

“Passed out from the blood loss,” Sam said, nodding at the limp body of the man they’d detained. “I wrapped up the wound as best as I could and called the police.”

Steve nodded, crouching down to check on the man. “You did good.”

Sam gave him a half-assed salute. “Thank you, Captain.” He shifted, sitting up straighter. “His name is Adam Kline, the same Adam Kline that we found on those financial records tied to the Typhon account. Typhon, by the way, is said to have fathered the Hydra in Greek mythology, so there's that connection. Subtle folks, aren't they?" Sam looked back at Kline. "Anyway, he’s Mathers’ right hand man, and can probably give us the names of the other Hydra agents we’re looking for.”

“I think we got most of them outside,” Steve said, thinking of the unconscious men lying around the dining room. “Some of them got away, though, like that snake Mathers. It got a little out of hand. Natasha was in the neighborhood so she stopped by as backup.”

A few EMTs pushed their way into the room then, effectively cutting off any potential further conversation as they transferred Kline’s body onto a stretcher and wheeled him out of the room.

But Steve knew that they had to talk. Needed to, if he wanted any chance at returning to a semblance of his previous relationship with Sam.

That chance didn’t come until nearly a week later, after they’d been properly debriefed about the mission and the Hydra activity and been cleared by Fury who reassured them that their role in the issue was complete.

"For now," he'd added. "Daniel Mathers and a few of his co-conspirators are still missing. But once we get any leads, we'll need you two back to assist."

"Does his wife know anything? Maisie?" Sam had asked. 

"No. She had no idea what her husband got up to in his free time."

Steve had shaken his head, amazed that someone could be with somebody for so long and still somehow not know who they really were.

It was the week following the debriefing that Steve found himself in front of Sam’s home, wavering as he tried to find the confidence to knock on the door.

He took in a few breaths and contemplated simply turning back around and walking home when the door opened and his decision was made for him.

“Steve?” Sam eyes widened in surprise before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Thought I heard somebody pacing around my front door. Come on in,” he said, standing aside to let him through.

“Thanks,” Steve mumbled, his thoughts in turmoil as he wondered where he would even begin.

“I’m assuming you’re not here to pig out on Doritos and play video games on the couch?” Sam asked, crossing his arms and looking at him expectantly.

“You’d be correct in assuming that.” Steve sighed. “Sam, I just wanted to that I’m sorry about…everything. I feel like I took advantage of you, and then I blew up at you when you tried talking about it—”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Sam said, holding up a hand. “Let’s backpedal for a second here. Who said anything about taking advantage of me?”

Steve could feel the heat rising up his neck as he thought back to it. “That night, after the mayor’s event.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Did you think I did that just for you?” He chuckled. “Steve, I’m a grown man fully capable of making decisions for myself. If I decided to get naked and get off with you, it’s because it was something I wanted to do, not because I felt like I owed you something.” He tilted his head. “I just kind of thought that was why you did it.”

“No, not at all!” Steve said a little too quickly. “I mean, I wanted it too. But not because I  _needed_  it, physically.” Steve swallowed. This was it. He braced himself as he said, “It’s because it was…you. I wanted you, Sam.” He took a breath. “I still do.”

Sam stared at him, long and hard enough to make Steve mildly uncomfortable before Sam finally spoke again.

“Are you kidding me?”

Steve blinked. “What?”

Sam groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “I’ve been thirsting after your pasty ass for the past three months,” he said. “And you’re telling me we could’ve been fucking this whole time?”

“Wait,” Steve said with a frown, not wanting to get too carried away. “Just to clarify, I don’t just want you  _sexually_  I also want you…” He struggled to find the right words without sounding like too much of a sap before deciding that there  _was_  no way to say it without sounding like a sap. “I love you, Sam. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember knowing you.”

Sam's eyes were wide and his mouth opened and closed a few times wordlessly. For the first time since Steve had laid eyes on him, Sam seemed to have been rendered speechless. He didn’t even bother saying anything, just surged forward and wrapped a hand around his head to pull him into a kiss.

“Upstairs,” Sam murmured against his lips. “Now.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice.

They tried making their way upstairs without breaking their hold on one another which just slowed them down, but they didn’t mind too much (although Steve did briefly contemplate simply throwing Sam over his shoulder and running the rest of the way to his room).

Once they got to Sam’s bedroom it was a rush of hurriedly stripped off clothing and lingering kisses as they fell into bed. Steve’s lips wandered down Sam’s neck, pressing soft kisses along the way before sucking at the junction between his neck and his shoulder. He felt Sam arch up into him in response, sending a thrill through his body and straight to his groin.

Steve wanted to take his time exploring the length of Sam’s body, tracing over the ridges of muscle and the expanse of smooth brown skin, but they were both growing impatient of waiting any longer.

“Where’s the—”

“Second drawer on the left. Condoms too.”

Steve grinned at Sam’s eagerness and was rewarded with a scoff.

“I’m about to have sex with Captain America, I’m allowed to be a little enthusiastic, alright?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Steve said, but he was still grinning.

His fingers closed around the tube in the drawer and then it was simply a matter of trying to stretch Sam out without causing him too much discomfort. He continually pressed his lips and little licks to Sam’s cock as he pushed his fingers inside to distract him from the uncomfortable stretch of Steve’s fingers.

Sam groaned on Steve’s third finger, pushing his hips down on them. “Okay, I’m ready, just hurry up already.”

Steve’s fingers slipped out of Sam’s now-twitching asshole and he reached into the box he’d found earlier for a condom, tearing the packet open with his teeth (it’d had taken him a while to master that trick and he wanted to impress Sam as much as possible) before rolling it on over his dick.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Steve asked, rubbing more lube over his cock as he watched Sam’s flushed face. The last thing he wanted was to push into Sam and find him not prepped enough and end up hurting him.

Sam widened his legs in response, making Steve swallow at the sight. “Yes, now please hurry up and fuck me already.”

Steve leaned over Sam’s body, placing one hand next to his head and using the other to line himself up with Sam’s entrance, taking one last look at Sam’s face before pushing in.

Sam’s eyes fell closed as Steve slowly pushed in, Sam’s walls almost painfully tight around him. He let out a breath when he was seated fully inside, taking a second to let Sam adjust before he began thrusting.

Up until then, all of their sexual encounters had been rushed and sloppy. But Steve wasn’t going to let that happen now. He was going to take Sam apart, nice and slow.

Sam let out a breathy moan as Steve took his time pulling out and thrusting back in. “Fuck Steve, you trying to kill me?”

“Just a little,” Steve replied.

He felt Sam’s hips lifting and pushing back against him, trying to get more speed from his thrusts but Steve didn’t change his pace in the slightest, savoring the slow drag of Sam’s walls around him as he pushed in.

He felt Sam jerk as he brushed against his prostate and paused before changing his angle to rub his cock back and forth against it, eliciting a choked-off gasp from Sam’s lips.

“Steve,” Sam groaned in protest, his hips near-quivering from the stimulation. “Stop being such a fucking tease.”

Steve didn’t reply, but did wrap a hand around Sam’s steadily leaking cock to pump him in time with his thrusts.

He picked up speed after that, his own resolve wearing thin the louder Sam’s moans got. He could feel himself edging closer and closer to his own release, but he wanted Sam to finish first. He began fisting Sam’s cock tighter and faster, pushing Sam’s thighs open wider to thrust his hips harder inside him. Sam’s responding string of expletives told him he was on the right track.

But it was getting harder to focus on anything but his impending orgasm, and he stifled a whimper at the feeling of Sam’s fingers biting into the skin of his shoulders.

Steve almost wished he could say something sexy, something dirty to push Sam over the edge. But he just knew that anything he’d try to say would come out sounding awkward and ill-placed, so he settled for moaning Sam’s name in his ear which appeared to work just as well, as Sam’s grip on his shoulders tightened and his walls clenched tight around Steve’s dick as came all over his chest.

Steve couldn’t last much longer, not with Sam looking so satisfyingly content as Steve continued fucking him through his orgasm. Steve drove into him one last time before coming with a shudder, pausing a moment to catch his breath before pulling out.

“Damn,” was what Sam said when he’d gotten his breathing back to normal. “I can’t believe we waited so long to do that.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he tied off the condom and tossed it into the trash.

“I didn’t know you even looked at me like that until today.”

Sam looked over at him with a half-smile and a raised eyebrow. “Please, Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Dorky. You should’ve known I was a goner that first day you batted those baby-blues at me.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Was I that obvious?”

Sam grinned. “Not obvious enough, evidently.” He reached over and took Steve’s hand, wove his fingers through his own. “But what’s done is done. No use going back to think about what we would’ve done differently. We’ve always been together anyway. Now we’re just together in a different way,” Sam punctuated with a squeeze of his hand. “Now pass me a washcloth, I’m covered in my own spunk and its starting to dry.”

Steve laughed and passed him a clean washcloth from his nightstand.

“We kind of did this backwards, didn’t we?” Steve mused. “We got married, then said I love you, and after that consummated the marriage.”

“Love works in mysterious ways,” Sam said sagely before letting out a loud yawn.

“Are you tired?” Steve asked incredulously. “It’s 4 in the afternoon.”

“Nothing wrong with a little nap,” Sam said, his voice already drowsy with sleep. “C’mon Steve. Sleep with me.”

Steve rolled his eyes at the innuendo, but settled in next to Sam as his own eyelids began feeling heavier. He wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist and pulled him close, before drifting off into the best sleep he’d gotten in months. 

**Author's Note:**

> Super gross fluffy ending, I know. It's been a while since I've posted fic though (a little over 1 year exactly!) So cut me some slack.  
> Kudos if you liked it would be very appreciated! And comments are always nice too. Thank you for reading!  
> [starfudge](http://starfudge.tumblr.com/)


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